Infected
by brixen
Summary: The boys investigate a small Kansas town where locals are suffering from an unearthly illness. And all it takes is a split second accident for Dean to suddenly find himself numbered among those infected.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** The boys investigate a small Kansas town where locals are suffering from an unearthly illness. And all it takes is a split-second accident for Dean to suddenly find himself numbered among those infected.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural.

**Infected**

**Chapter 1**

"Holyrood, Kansas," Dean announced, eyes scanning the screen in front of him.

Sam glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, glad to have an excuse to direct his attention elsewhere. "Hm?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Holyrood, Kansas," Dean repeated, glancing at his brother across the room. "Our next stop."

"Yeah?" Sam asked, pushing himself off the bed. "What did you find there?" He made his way over to his brother and peered over his shoulder. 

Dean turned the laptop a bit, offering his brother a good look at the site he was browsing.

Sam scanned it for brief moment before snorting. "Crop circles?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He gave his brother a look that suggested he had to be joking. "You want us to go investigate crop circles?" He asked, emphasizing the last two words.

Dean glanced at his brother, not appreciating the laughter. "What, crop circles aren't featured your list of 'freaky unexplainable shit?'"

"No," Sam explained, "They're not exactly paranormal. People have admitted to creating them, Dean. I've seen like fifty programs about it on the Discovery Channel."

"Yeah," Dean said, looking back to the screen. "I've seen those, too, Einstein. But there's more to these ones." His brother gave him a skeptical look. He went on, "First of all, these aren't your typical fancy-schmancy designs. It's simple—four small circles surrounding a large central one. And no one's taken credit for creating them." He glanced at his brother. "And get this—they appear every year on the same day, in the exact same spot. Have for the last seven years." he paused, reading his brother's expression. "Now, how does _that_ measure up on your list of 'freaky unexplainable shit?'"

Sam pursed his lips, scanning the screen more closely. Yeah, that sounded pretty weird, all right. But still...Was Dean suggesting there might be the possibility of...

"So, you actually think _aliens_ might be behind this?" Sam asked, not being able to resist poking fun.

"Well, I dunno, Sammy," Dean said, not expecting the blunt question. It did sound kind of ridiculous once Sam put it to words... "But there is this local nut that swears it is. Says he's even met the bastards."

"So," Sam replied, "An insane farmer claims aliens have been paying frequent visits to his backyard?" he said, nodding slowly. "Well, that's valid enough for me," he added sarcastically.

Dean snorted in annoyance. "Well, it might not lead to much, but it's weird enough to look into, isn't it?"

"Ah, I don't know," Sam said, giving in. "All I know is that I'm bored as hell with this town," he said, giving a weak gesture towards the window.

Dean nodded. "Same." He leaned back and stretched. "So, we'll leave first thing in the morning, then."

Sam gave a slight nod, "Good old Kansas," he said, "...Home sweet home."

Both brothers paused at the mention of "home," each wondering if the other was going to ask if they should make a visit there. However, neither bothered because they both knew there was no way in hell the other would want to go back there without reason. So, they endured the awkward silence for a brief moment before Dean stood up and made his way to the bathroom.

Sam yawned and went back to his own bed. _Home..._ He found it kind of ironic that he still considered Lawrence, Kansas his hometown even though he had only spent a very brief period of his life there and was far too young to remember it. Not that he minded not remembering, though. In fact, he considered it a blessing. The things he had heard about that night...The things Dean had told him...Dean remembered it all. He may have only been four, but Sam could tell he remembered it all. Sam wondered how much those memories really affected his brother. Were they enough to keep him doing this all his life? Hunting things, seeking vengeance, sacrificing a normal life, normal friends, and...a home? Sam had never thought about his brother like this before. What did Dean have in life? What were his dreams? What kept him doing this all these years? He couldn't help it, but suddenly he felt for his brother. Felt for him like he never had before. He couldn't explain why...Just something about Dean's selflessness hit him hard at that moment. He looked up as the bathroom door opened.

Dean pulled his shirt off and dropped it in the middle of the room as he made his way to his bed. He pulled the covers down and was just about to climb in when he noticed his brother looking at him—looking at him with something that looked close to...admiration? Dean didn't get it. He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Sam gave a slight grin and looked away. "Nothing. Just thinking."

Dean let one eyebrow fall, keeping the other raised in a look of confusion. "Okay, Weirdo," he said, climbing in bed. He was used to the random tangents Sam always seemed to be off on.

Sam gave a slight snort. Typical Dean response. He folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, returning again to his mental analysis of "home." Thinking more about it, he suddenly realized that Lawrence, Kansas wasn't his home. Not anymore than this half-a-star motel room was. But yet, he felt at home here. And he realized why. Because Dean was here. His brother. His family. That, he concluded, was what "home" truly was. He probably would never voice it—because he knew Dean wouldn't be able to handle it if he did—and really, it wasn't necessary to put into words—but he loved his brother. He really did. Why he was thinking about all this now, he had no idea. But everyone needed to take a minute every once in a while to appreciate their loved ones.

Because shit happens. Every day. And you never know when it just might happen to the one who matters most.

"What the hell are you doing?" an irate Dean snapped as his younger brother reached for the volume control.

"Sorry, but I can't listen to that crap any longer. It's giving me a headache." Sam leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. They had been on the road for over three hours now and he still hadn't managed to catch any sleep. 

Dean shook his head in annoyance. "Dude, don't be falling asleep right now. I'm about to turn the wheel over to you." 

"Gimme a few minutes," Sam mumbled tiredly. He wasn't up for driving just yet.

Dean sighed and reverted his eyes back to the highway. This drive sucked. There was nothing to look at but endless miles of corn, nothing to listen to now except for the constant hum of the wheels on the road, and nothing exceptionally compelling to even occupy his thoughts with. And when there was nothing to think about Dean's mind tended to wander—off into the most random places, too.

He found himself thinking about his childhood for some odd reason. Maybe it was the fact that he was once again back in Kansas, his home state. _Home_ state...Was that merely because he was born there? Or was there supposed to be some sort of significant attachment he felt towards the place? Because he sure as hell didn't feel one.

He sighed and glanced over at his brother whose breathing was now light and regular. Dean shook his head slightly. So much for turning the wheel over to him. And though Dean was tired himself, he wasn't about to wake his younger brother up. God knows he never got enough sleep.

Turning his attention once more to the road, Dean pressed down the gas a little more firmly. Holyrood was only a few more boring hours away... 

"Sam."

A slight punch on the arm. "Hey, Sam."

Reluctantly, Sam opened his eyes. He glanced at his brother in the opposite seat, his eyes still sleep-filled and rapidly blinking.

"How long did I sleep for?" he asked yawning. 

"Don't worry about it," Dean answered, "Look," he said, nodding towards something ahead on the road.

Sam turned his gaze. Flashing lights. Squad cars. "A road block?" he asked, brow furrowed. "What the hell's that about?"

"I dunno," Dean replied, wearing a similar look of confusion. He let off the gas as they got closer. "We'll find out."

"Where are we anyway?" Sam asked.

"A few miles outside of Holyrood," Dean replied.

"You drove the whole way?" Sam asked guiltily. "You could have woken me up."

Dean gave a weak wave of dismissal, bringing the Impala to a stop. He rolled the window down as an officer approached the driver's side.

"What's going on, Officer?" Dean asked, as the middle-aged man bent over to speak to them.

"Road's closed, boys," the officer said, looking between both brothers. "Sorry, but you'll have to turn around. You'll find a detour about thirty miles back."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Something happen?" he asked, scanning the area. He didn't see any sign of an accident or anything out of the ordinary.

The officer didn't reply right away. Instead he seemed to size up the brothers for a moment, taking in everything from the model of the car to the looks of their outfits. These boys didn't look a thing like farm boys, but still, the officer had to ask to make sure.

"I saw you've got Kansas plates. You boys have any connection to Holyrood?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, reading each other's thoughts. That was an odd question. 

"Um, actually," Dean replied slowly, turning his gaze back to the officer. "We live there, sir."

"You been home in the last couple days?"

"Uh, yes sir," Dean replied, finding this investigation to be very curious. "We just went to visit a cousin yesterday, in, uh, a neighboring town," Dean said, not sure of the actual names of any of the "neighboring towns." He hoped the officer would buy it.

The officer nodded slowly. "So, you've had contact with the town within the last two days?" he asked once more.

Again, Dean glanced at his brother. Something really weird was going on.

"Yes, sir," Dean reaffirmed. "What's going on? Did something happen in town?" he asked, adding a note of concern to his voice. "Is our family okay?"

The officer stepped back. "I don't know the details, boys. You drive on ahead now, though," he said, ending the conversation. He motioned them forward.

Dean knew he wasn't going to get any more information from the officer and rolled the window up. He pressed the gas and turned to look at his brother. They shared a glance that clearly said _What the hell was that about?_

"You sure that was the smartest thing to do, Dean?" Sam asked after a moment.

"What do you mean?" 

"Well...they're not letting people _in_ to the town, so it's safe to assume they're letting anyone _out_ either. And I'm not sure we want to get stuck in a situation we don't know anything about..."

"Yeah, well, maybe it would be a good idea to get some details then, wouldn't it?"

A moment passed then Sam reluctantly asked, "Do you think this has anything to do with...you know, the crop circles?"

Dean gave a slight shrug. "I'd be anything but surprised," he answered honestly.

Sam had to agree with that. There wasn't much that could throw a curve at Dean these days. He turned his eyes back to the road and finally spotted an end to the seemingly endless corn in the distance.

They passed several farms before finally coming to the "heart" of the town. And it really wasn't much. One bar. One gas station. One tiny, run-down looking motel. And several other small, poorly maintained buildings made up main street.

"Well," Dean announced upon sizing up the town, "Welcome to Podunk, USA, Sammy."

Sam took in the surroundings, and had to agree. Everything about this town could be summed up with one word. And Dean had already so eloquently provided it: Podunk. Sam also couldn't help but notice how...depressed the town seemed. Like there was an air of gloom weighing heavily on everything. There was hardly any movement going on. No sign of children anywhere. No couples holding hands, or people walking dogs, or bullet bikes speeding around recklessly. 

"Sure does seem exciting, doesn't it?" Sam asked, offering sarcasm though he wasn't really in a joking mood.

"What should we hit first?" Dean asked. "Motel or bar?"

"Bar," Sam replied. "We've got to find out what the hell is going on here."

Dean concurred and pulled over.

More gloom met them inside. As well as what Dean suspected was probably the entire town's male population. Everyone glanced at them as they entered, and while they received a few looks of curiosity, there were no greetings offered. Everyone went back to their silent drinking after the door closed behind them.

A little wary of the un-bar-like silence, the brothers approached the counter, inconspicuously scanning the room for a good candidate for an interrogation. Sam spotted a seemingly good natured-looking fellow sitting by himself a few tables away. He looked as good as any to talk to. He nudged his brother and nodded to the man after Dean picked up a couple of beers. They walked over to him.

"Mind if we join you?" Dean asked upon reaching him.

The man glanced up at them while at the same time weakly gesturing to the empty chairs. He was obviously indifferent to having any company at the moment, but he seemed like a friendly enough guy. In his early forties, cleanly shaven, intelligent eyes.

Sam and Dean sat down.

"I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam," Dean said. The usual introduction.

The man nodded to them. "Jeffrey Davis," he said. "You boys aren't from around here. What are you doing here?"

"Actually," Dean explained, trying to think of what to say. "We're trying to figure that out ourselves." 

The man seemed nonplussed as his brow furrowed.

"We want to know if there's anything we can do to help," Sam put in. "But first we have to know what exactly's going on here."

"What do you mean 'what exactly's going on here?'" Jeffrey replied. "The town's being quarantined." he said, as if the boys must be stupid or something.

Sam and Dean's eyebrows raised in unison. 

"Quarantined?" Dean repeated.

The man nodded, obviously surprised that this was news to the boys. "The road block's been up since yesterday. I'm surprised you two didn't hear anything. Did you get stuck here passing through or something?" 

"We actually just arrived in town today," Dean said, eager to change roles from the interviewee to the interviewer. "Why is the town being quarantined?" he asked hastily.

The man looked between the brothers for a moment, realizing that they indeed were out of the loop, and needed some questions answered. "A virus," he said. "Apparently one that's never before been diagnosed. Officials are keeping everything under wraps while they conduct a full investigation into what's going on here—What's causing it," he paused, swallowing, "and who has it..." he seemed to reflect on that for a moment. "No one's allowed to enter or leave the town," he continued, "So how did you boys get here? And why on earth would you want to come here?"

Dean and Sam shared a glance, each reading the other's thoughts. This was a big deal. Maybe it really wasn't the smartest idea getting involved with this.

Dean let the man's first question of how they got past the roadblock slide by. "We came here because we want to help." he explained.

The man raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? You boys scientists or something?" he asked sarcastically, taking in their clothes as well as glancing at Sam's shaggy hair. Clearly he knew there was no chance these were scientists he was talking to.

"We just want to know if there's anything we can do," Sam explained. 

"Why don't you get them to give my daughter back to me? That's what you can do," Jeffrey replied, a touch of vehemence to his voice. He wasn't angry at the boys, but he clearly had some pent up frustration he needed to vent.

"'Them?'" Dean asked. 

"The investigators. Or scientists. Or whoever the hell they are. They're running tests on her," he paused, his voice taking on some emotion. "They won't let me see her."

A look of sympathy stole over Sam's face. "I'm sorry," was all he could offer. "She has it then?"

The man gave a slight nod, looking down at his hands.

"How many other people?" Dean asked.

Jeffrey thought for a moment. "Four, that I know of."

"And no one knows for sure what it is? Or how they caught it?"

Jeffrey shook his head.

"That's very odd." Dean stated.

"Odd indeed," Sam said, hoping his brother would pick up on where the conversation needed to head next. 

"Speaking of odd," Dean went on. Yep, he picked up on it, Sam thought. Not a bad transition, either. "Anything else strange or out of the ordinary happen lately?"

Jeffrey looked up at him, "You mean besides an unknown virus hitting the town out of nowhere, and us being quarantined by the damn feds?" he asked. 

Dean gave a slightly apologetic look. "It's just that I read about these," he paused for a moment, "crop circles that appeared here in one of the local corn fields recently. You wouldn't happen to have heard anything about those, would you?"

Jeffrey snorted humorlessly. "You heard about Old Bill's crop circles, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, eager to hear the story behind them.

"There's nothing out of the ordinary about those," Jeffrey explained. "The old coot makes 'em every year." 

"Bill?" Sam asked. "Bill makes them?"

"Of course he claims he doesn't. Claims it's aliens. In fact he's got some whole cock-and-bull alien story to go with it. He just makes the circles to add some 'validity' to his claims, you know?" he paused for a moment. "You boys should understand though, that pretty much every small farming town has a Bill McPhee to deal with. The lonely farmer that's got a few screws loose, you know?"

Dean nodded slowly. "What exactly does he claim about these aliens of his?" he asked.

The man gave him an unsure look. Like he thought it was pretty ridiculous that Dean even wanted to know. 

"Just out of curiosity," Dean explained.

"Well, let's see," Jeffrey began, sorting his thoughts. "I've heard the story at least fifty times, I'm sure. Bill claims the first time the aliens visited was seven years ago. And he claims one of their numbers died or something on the long journey here to earth," the man snorted. Such a ridiculous story. "So they left the poor dead bastard behind and come back to visit his 'grave' every year." He smirked again. "Bill says he has solid proof. Absolute solid proof that we'd all give up our life's savings to see. But he's yet to offer any. And I sure as hell wouldn't pay that crazy bastard a penny to see anything he claims as 'proof.'" He finished the story and took a swig of beer.

Dean looked over at his younger brother. Well, that was something, wasn't it? But he didn't see how this could be connected to a mysterious sickness that had broken out in the town. Other than the timing, of course, which couldn't be discounted. 

"Listen, Jeffrey," Sam said, picking up the conversation where it left off. "There's some weird stuff going down here all right, and me and my brother intend to get to the bottom of it." he explained.

The man gave them a half amused, half appreciative look.

Sam went on. "We deal with unexplainable stuff like this all the time, and believe it or not, there's usually a way to solve it. We want to help you and your daughter and your town." 

The amusement disappeared from the man's face.

"Is there anything we can do for you? Anything at all?"

Jeffrey realized they were serious. And they were offering to help him. He would be an idiot to pass up this offer. "You're serious?" he asked. "You'd be willing to help Sarah?"

Sam nodded, realizing Sarah was obviously his daughter.

Jeffrey suddenly leaned in closer to the brothers, and his voice dropped, taking on a more serious tone. "Listen, I really could use your guys' help," he said. "If you could do a huge favor for me I would appreciate it more than you know."

Both brothers had leaned in to listen to him, and they nodded in unison.

"Look, I happen to know a thing or two about viruses, genetics, biology, and the like," he explained. "I used to work as a biochemical engineer in Virginia before moving out here and resorting to my farming roots."

The brothers were caught a bit by surprise.

"I teach a few lab classes at the high school now," Jeffrey went on, trying to get to the point. "And I would do this myself, only the school's been closed and locked up, and they're not allowing anyone out of their houses past seven."

The brother's nodded again, wondering where he was going with this.

"Anyways," Jeffrey went on, "What I would really like is to get a hold of a blood sample," he said. "Of anything that's infected." he noticed the brothers' confused expressions at this and explained, "Animals have been affected by the virus, too," he paused, "What I'm wondering is if you guys would be willing to, sort of 'break in' to the school and maybe use some of the equipment in the lab to do this for me?" he paused again, "I just have to learn whatever I can about this virus. I don't trust leaving this up to the Whitecoats to solve. Not when my daughter's life could be on the line," his voice seemed to catch in his throat for a brief moment again.

Dean nodded his understanding. That sounded like an easy enough task. Not exactly in their line of duty, but since they didn't have any other leads to work at the moment, there wouldn't be any harm in helping the guy out.

"Yeah, we could do that," Sam said.

The relief and appreciation was clear in the man's eyes. "I appreciate it more than you guys know," he said, repeating his earlier words. "I'm pretty sure my cat's been infected. You can use her." He began to stand.

"Hey, Jeff," Dean said, rising also. "Do they have any idea how it's spreading?"

Jeffrey suddenly realized this hadn't occurred to him. These young men could very well be putting their lives at risk by even being here. "Oh..." he said slowly. "I forgot you boys are at just as much risk as the rest of us..."

Dean gave a short laugh,"Hell, Sam here has an immune system that's better at screening viruses than a firewall. And I haven't been sick since I was about five, so we should be okay."

Sam knew that was a load of crap. They both got sick just as often as the next person, but he understood why Dean said it. He didn't want Jeffrey to start feeling guilty. Sam also had to admit though, that he wasn't too worried about that fact that there was a virus running loose in the town either. Those types of things only happen to people you don't know. They never actually affect you personally. That's just the way the world works.

If only he realized how naive that attitude was...

**Chapter 2 coming soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Infected**

**Chapter 2**

The sharp crack of breaking glass pierced the blanketing silence that surrounded the Winchester brothers.

"Think they'll notice?" Dean asked, knocking the remaining shards of glass loose with the crowbar.

"Not while we're still in town," his brother replied.

Dean reached through the window, searching for the latch that would open it, and upon finding it, swung the window open to its extent.

"Not much of an opening," Dean said, examining it. "Shouldn't be too hard for your lurpy ass to squeeze through, though."

Sam gave him a look. "Lurpy? Hey, I'm just as built as you, shortie."

Dean snorted. "Don't kid yourself, bud. I could kick your ass any day and you know it."

Sam rolled his eyes. He'd never give Dean the satisfaction of knowing, but, yeah, that was pretty much the truth.

"Oh, and I'm not short by normal standards. But, you know, put me next to a lurpy kid...such as yourself..."

Sam shook his head in exasperation. "Give me a boost, will you?" he asked, bringing them back to the issue at hand. He set the pet carrier containing Jeffrey's cat on the ground and reached up for the window. Dean bent and offered his hands as a foothold. It took a bit of straining, but the younger Winchester managed to slide through the narrow window without too much grief. Dean helped guide his brother's long legs through until he successfully made it inside. Dean heard his brother tumble onto the tile floor of the classroom.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," came the muffled response. A moment later Sam appeared at the window, dusting himself off.

"Meet me around at the side doors," Dean said, reaching down to pick up the pet carrier.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, peering down at his brother. "We're sure there's no internal alarm system, right?"

"That's what Jeffrey said."

"Yeah, but what if he's wrong? What if it's one of those silent ones?"

Dean gave a short laugh. "Sam, this is Redneck High we're breaking into. Not the Pentagon. And besides, I'm pretty sure the local law enforcement has a bit more pressing matters to tend to right now than a high school break-in."

"...Right," Sam said, seeing the crystal clear logic behind that. A moment later he disappeared from view.

Dean met him around the side of the building a minute later and was let in as Sam held the doors open for him. Sure enough, and much to Sam's relief, no piercing wail of an alarm met their ears.

"Here," Dean said, pushing the case that contained the cat back into his brother's arms. "Did you happen to pass the science lab?"

"Yeah, it's just down the hall a ways. This way," Sam motioned.

Dean fell in step behind his brother, glancing at each empty classroom they passed. He couldn't help but feel a bit relieved they hadn't waited until nightfall to come here. There was something really eerie about an empty school as it was, but add in nighttime and darkness streaked with moonlight, and this place could very well have passed for one of the typical sites they worked their usual gigs.

"In here," Sam said, peering through the glass of one of the classroom doors. He opened the door slowly, despite the fact that there wasn't really any need for caution.

Four large tables were laid out across the room, each equipped with six stools and a sink.

"Well," Dean said, after taking a good look around the room. "Let's get this over with, huh?"

Sam set the carrier on the nearest table.

"You prep the patient," Dean went on, "I'll find what we need."

Sam glanced at his brother, knowing full well he was intentionally avoiding any contact with the cat. He knew Dean hated cats as it was, and he was pretty sure a cat infected with some freak virus wouldn't be any exception.

"Just, uh," Dean said as Sam started moved to open the carrier door, "don't let it bite you or anything."

Oh, thanks, that's just what I was planning on letting it do, Sam thought sarcastically. He was about as worried as the cat biting him as he was about being bit by a limp rag. Because that's exactly what the cat resembled at the moment. A panting, hot-to-the-touch, limp rag. Sam had never seen a cat pant like that before. It was a little unnerving.

"Here, wait," Dean said, stopping Sam as he was reaching for the cat. He started rummaging through the cupboards at the front of the room. "Here we go," he said, and tossed his brother a box of rubber gloves. "Put those on."

Yeah, not a bad idea. It never hurts to use a little caution, Sam thought, slipping a pair of gloves on. He reached for the cat and, gently as possible, slowly dragged it out on to the counter. It's abnormally glossy eyes stared up at him, indifferent as to what was going on.

"Damn," Sam said, looking down at the cat with a sympathetic gaze. "Poor thing."

Dean glanced over at his brother. Heh, typical Sammy, he thought to himself. Feeling for a cat. Dean often wondered if he should try picking up a few tips from his younger brother when it came to the sensitivity department. Chicks seemed to dig that type of stuff. But, there weren't any chicks here now, Dean reminded himself glumly, so it's not like it mattered anyway. He turned his attention back to the task at hand.

"So," Dean said, talking with his back to his brother. "What exactly does this guy hope to accomplish by us doing this?"

Sam glanced over at him. "I don't know. Study the virus...Look for a cure...I mean, he obviously knows a thing or two about biology. Maybe this is the only way he can get some hope that his daughter might be okay..."

"So," Dean said, joining his brother at the table, his arms full of various instruments. "We're breaking into a high school and collecting some freaky-ass cat's blood just to give a guy some hope, huh?"

Sam thought it over briefly. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Dean pursed his lips and nodded for a moment. "Well, that's great then," he said, giving a slight shrug. "Because there most definitely isn't anything better we could be doing with our time."

"Dean," Sam said a bit reprimanding. "We offered to help the guy," he reminded him. "And we do need to gather as much information about this virus as we can if plan on helping the town. And that's where Jeffrey's expertise might come in handy."

Dean nodded, seeing the logic behind his brother's words. "Yeah, yeah..." he said, pulling on a pair of gloves himself. "Mind if I do the honors, then?" he asked, holding up a syringe.

"Knock yourself out, man," Sam said, making a slight face at the sight of the syringe. God, he hated needles.

"Sorry if this hurts a bit, bitch," Dean murmured, bringing the needle down to the stoic cat. He pressed it against the cat's thigh and gently slid it in. The cat didn't so much as flinch. It just continued to stare up at them, making that god-awful, rasping, panting noise.

Both brothers watched intently as the syringe slowly filled with a deep crimson liquid. A deep crimson _infected_ liquid, they reminded themselves.

"Hand me one of those vials, would you?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes off the syringe as it neared being filled to its capacity.

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, turning to grab one.

Time seemed to slow down slightly as Dean began to slip the needle back out. He wasn't expecting it. There was no reason he should have been. The cat had been almost scary-docile the whole time. However, in the mere fraction of a second, and completely without warning, that docility instantly snapped into full-on, furious aggression.

The cat jerked itself away with a sharp hiss, claws out, hair on end. It took one swipe at Dean, eyes unnaturally wide, before flinging itself off the table and galloping maniacally across the floor, sliding as it went, only to reach the open door and disappear.

Sam stood stock still for a moment, gaping across the room at where the cat had just vanished. What the hell was that! He closed his mouth after a moment, willing himself to recover from that unexpected shock. However, nothing could have prepared him for the shock that awaited him only a head's turn away.

He looked over at his brother. Dean was standing motionless. Not gaping across the room like Sam had been. Not slack-jawed with shock. No, he was staring down. At his hand. Where a needle was deeply embedded in his skin.

Sam's stomach turned to a hunk of ice that dropped so fast he almost lost his balance. His mouth fell open in disbelief at what he was seeing, and his eyes widened in unmistakable fear.

Slowly, Dean brought his gaze up to meet his brother's while at the same time giving the syringe a sharp tug. He didn't flinch. He just met his brother's look of complete shock, with one that, while almost completely devoid of emotion, clearly said _Oh Shit, Sammy. I just screwed up big time._

A beat passed. Both their breaths were hitched. Then something in Sam snapped.

"No," he said, shaking his head vehemently and springing into action. He immediately grabbed his brother's hand, yanking the rubber glove off in one swift motion while dragging him over to the sink. He nearly broke the tap in his desperation to get the water running, and immediately forced his brother's hand under the steady stream. He started scrubbing. Desperately rubbing at the small red pinprick that was visible on his brother's hand. It wasn't too late. If he got it clean, it wouldn't be too late...He scrubbed harder.

"Sam," Dean broke in gently, slowly trying to free himself from his brother's grasp.

Sam didn't hear, pressing harder into his brother's hand with each scrubbing motion.

"Sam," Dean repeated a bit louder, pulling back with a bit more force.

The scrubbing slowed. Sam reluctantly brought his fearful, in-denial gaze up to meet his brother's calm one.

Dean gave a slight shake of his head and a regretful half-grin flashed momentarily across his face. "It's no use, Sammy." he said, shaking his head once more. "It's too late..."

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**Chapter 3 coming soon.**

**A/N:** Well, I hope this is getting angsty enough for you guys. Be sure to drop a note before leaving, please! Reviews feed my muse like no other. Chapter three _should_ be up within the next few days, so check back, won't you? Oh, and thanks to those who reviewed chapter 1! Don't think they go unnoticed. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Infected**

**Chapter 3**

"Dean," Sam said, the intervals between his breaths quickly shortening.

Dean just continued to hold his gaze steady, as a hundred thoughts passed between them unspoken.

"Dean," Sam repeated, finally breaking eye contact, his gaze scanning the room helplessly. His breathing was still sharp and uneven.

Dean continued to watch him passively, knowing they were on the precipice of a breakdown, and realizing there wasn't anything he could do or say at the moment to stop it.

Sam brought his gaze back to his brother. He pressed his lips together. Swallowed hard. His brows furrowed in distress, and his still-widened eyes suddenly reflected the flourescent lights a bit brighter.

"Don't give me that look, Sam," Dean said quietly, drawing his gaze away.

"Dean!" Sam said insistently. He shook his head slightly, staring helplessly at his brother. "Do you know what this means!" he exclaimed, his voice steadily rising.

"I'm not an idiot, Sam," Dean said, maintaining his passive tone. Sam was nearing hysterics. And it wouldn't improve matters one bit if he let his little brother know he was more than a little freaked out himself. So, he put on the appearance of remaining calm and collected, even though he sure as hell didn't feel it at the moment.

"Oh, God, Dean," Sam said, bringing a hand to his brow. He resorted to pacing a small patch of the tile floor back and forth, as his thoughts flit frantically through his mind. This wasn't happening. That didn't just happen. There's no way...

"Sam," Dean said, reaching out to stop his brother's frantic pacing. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" Sam asked, locking eyes once more with his older brother. "Calm down!" his voice was still rising. "Dean...you have it now!" he said, that desperate look still marring his features. "Whatever the hell it is, you have it now!"

"I know, Sam!" Dean said, his voice finally taking on a bit of a hard edge. God, it's like they were kids again and Sam was rubbing it in his face. No, he quickly realized. Sam was just scared shitless. He wasn't intentionally trying to make Dean feel worse.

"Oh, God, Dean," Sam repeated, rubbing his brow once more and resorting to the quick pacing again. "What are we gonna do?" he was directing that question more at himself. _What the hell are we gonna do?_

Dean went back to playing the role of the calm brother. "Well," he said, giving a slight cock of the head, and offering an apologetic grin. "Looks like we've now got ourselves a pretty good excuse to start learning all we can about that virus."

Sam gave him a hard look before glancing away and shaking his head in disgust. A joke. I'm going out of my mind right now and he offers a joke. That bastard...But the anger was just a cover up. Dean's dark humor was always necessary to get them through situations like this. He couldn't imagine it not being present. And it never would be again if Dean...Sam stopped himself. He was jumping to conclusions and scaring himself even more than he already was at the moment. He tried to slow his breathing down. Tried to clear his thoughts of the terrible implications he was drawing from all this.

"Aw, come on, Sammy," Dean said, attempting to console him a bit. He was just about to open his mouth again to say everything was going to be okay, but he stopped himself. It was too early to make assumptions like that. Too early to make assumptions of any kind. And suddenly, Dean felt a little scared...

* * *

Dean threw another tentative glance at his brother, who had been staring out the windshield for the past several minutes, stony-faced and silent. 

"Sam," Dean began, hating that look on his little brother's face. He wasn't surprised when Sam just continued to stare forward. "Look, maybe we're really overreacting here." Sam turned to meet his gaze. "I mean, we don't actually _know_ anything about this so-called virus. Maybe it's not anything to get worked up about. Maybe that was just your typical freaky-ass cat, and it wasn't even infected at all. Maybe I don't have it," he shrugged and Sam just continued to look at him, not saying anything. "I just think we're jumping to the worst-case scenario a little too soon here."

"Yeah, well, we know better than to jump to the best-case one," Sam countered. "Since 'best-case scenarios' are so abundant in our lives." He said sarcastically. "Dean, the town's under a government lock-down. I highly doubt this is just a new mutation of the common cold we're dealing with here." He paused, trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts. "We're going to have to figure out what to do. Who to go to for help—"

"Whoa, slow down," Dean interrupted. "We're not telling anyone about this."

Sam's gaze snapped to meet his. "What do you mean 'we're not telling anyone?' Dean, we've got to get you some help."

"Sam, we're not even sure if I _have_ the virus, okay? We're just going to take this one step at a time like we do with every other job. We'll figure out what the hell is going on here, and we'll find a way to solve it. The last thing we need right now is a bunch of Feds sticking their noses where they don't belong."

"Dean," Sam replied, trying to reason with his brother. "We're not doctors. We're not scientists. If you do get sick, man, we're gonna have to go to somebody."

"Who, Sam? Your old buddy, Le Grange?"

"Dean, I'm serious. We're not going to mess around when it comes to your health."

"Okay, thanks, Doc."

"Dean—"

"Sam, I get it. We'll figure this out, okay? You need to stop getting so damn far ahead of yourself. You can't expect to keep your head when you're always ten steps ahead of the game."

"Yeah? That must be why I always lost to you at chess when we were kids."

"Exactly."

"Dean," Sam said, pointing out he was being sarcastic. "You've never once beat me at chess."

Dean looked at him, eyebrows raised. "What? If I remember right, I always kicked your ass at that game."

Sam snorted. "Well, obviously your memory's just as poor as your chess skills were."

"Yeah, well, chess always was a nerd's game," Dean replied. "I kicked your ass as the things that mattered, though. Still do, in fact."

Sam shook his head, "Yeah, I don't know about that."

"I'd be happy to prove it, Sammy. Any time you need the reassurance."

"Thanks."

Dean let a crooked grin pull at the corner of his mouth, glad the awkward tension had lessened a bit. A lingering feeling of dread continued to lurk at the corner of his thoughts, however, a subtle reminder that they still had a problem on their hands. And it could prove to be a big one. But at the moment, Dean felt fine. And he was clinging desperately to the hope that maybe he would wake up tomorrow and still feel fine. And maybe that freak accident back at the high school science lab could be dismissed and filed in the back of Dean's memory along with all the rest of his least favorite life moments that could never quite be forgotten no matter how hard he tried.

"That's his house up there on the left," Sam said, gesturing.

"Pretty nice farm he's got there," Dean said, scanning the acres of corn that surrounded the lone house. "As nice as farms get, anyways."

"What's wrong with farms?" Sam asked.

Dean snorted. "I forgot. You used to want to live on one when you were a kid," he gave a single shake of his head. "Man, I knew I should have beat you up that one time I caught you watching 'Little House on the Prairie.'"

Sam gave a short laugh. "If I remember right, you _did_ beat me up," he paused, thinking back, "Well, you stole the remote, anyway."

"Ha, really?" Dean said with a laugh. "Good for me. See, it's thanks to me that you turned out okay, Sammy."

Sam shook his head, amused at the irony of Dean considering their lives to be "okay." Damn, they were anything but "okay." They had always been anything but "okay." And Dean was honestly oblivious to that.

"I remember you went through some random horse phase, around the same time you wanted to be a farmer," Dean went on, still musing on their childhood. "You wouldn't quit begging me for one for weeks. After running out of excuses I finally had to flat out tell you we would never have a horse. I think you gave me the silent treatment for at least a week for that one." He pulled into the driveway. "Man, you had the silent treatment mastered before you could even form complete sentences."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I remember taking pretty good advantage of my manipulative skills as a kid. I couldn't help it, though. Getting you to cave was always too easy."

"Psh, whatever. I was a hardass."

"_Dad_ was the hardass."

And with that, the conversation died. Dean couldn't think of a reply that wouldn't instantly spring an argument, so he simply ignored the remark and climbed out of the car. Sam followed, carrying the vial of cat blood as well as a microscope they had ripped off from the the high school lab.

They made their way to the door and were shortly greeted by the middle-aged man they had met earlier at the bar.

"Sam, Dean," he said, nodding in greeting and stepping aside to let them in. "How did it go?"

Sam gave Dean a dark look and received a warning glance in return.

"Good," Dean said, gesturing to the equipment in Sam's hands. "But, uh, your cat sort of went ballistic on us and took off. Sorry about that." He wasn't really sorry though. He hated that damn cat.

"Oh, she's okay. The whole town's her backyard." He led the boys into the cluttered living room. Sam, being the perceptive one that he was, noticed that the house was definitely missing a woman's touch. Jeffrey must not be married. Or must be divorced, he realized, because he did have a daughter.

"Why don't you boys have a seat? I just put some coffee on," he said over his shoulder, retreating to the kitchen to retrieve it.

Dean sank into the worn sofa, while his brother took a minute to examine the framed photographs lining the bookcase. The pictures showed a very happy-seeming family. A golden-haired woman, young and vibrant, held a little girl close to her in one photo. The next showed that same women, arms entwined around a younger Jeffrey. Sam realized Jeffrey must have lost his wife, since it wasn't exactly common for men to lovingly display pictures of their ex-wives around the house.

Jeffrey returned a moment later, two steaming mugs in hand. He wordlessly handed them to the boys and took a seat in the armchair across from Dean.

Sam set the vial and microscope down on the coffee table and took a seat next to his brother.

Jeffrey eyed the objects appreciatively and glanced up at the brothers. "Again, I don't know how to thank you guys for the favor. It was pretty gutsy of me asking you two to break into the school, and if any inquiries or anything arise, I'll be sure to take full responsibility for the act."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said dismissively, though not hoping to convey the idea that break-ins were something he and his brother indulged in often.

Jeffrey reached for the vial and held it up, examining its contents closely. "I only hope this might give me some leads on a way to help my daughter..."

At the mention of his sick daughter, Sam jumped on the opportunity of gathering some much needed information he was dying to know at the moment. "Your daughter," he began, leaning in anxiously, "Can you tell us what happened? What the symptoms were? How fast they came on?"

Dean gave him a look, knowing full well what this interrogation was all about.

Jeffrey sighed and leaned back against the chair. "It was only a couple days ago. She came into my room in the middle of the night saying she didn't feel well. Chills, fever, and what seemed like an on-setting cough. I just took it as a case of the flu. Gave her some Dimetapp and sent her back to bed. The next day it seemed the symptoms just kept getting worse and worse. It wasn't a normal cough—she could hardly breathe. She wouldn't stop shivering, even though the damn fever wouldn't break. It scared the hell out of me. It wasn't a normal sickness. And when I finally realized that and was about to take her to the emergency room, the feds showed up. That was yesterday. They've assured me everything's going to be okay...But the bastards won't let me see her. They've turned the hospital into their own little science lab, and God knows the tests they've been running on her...And you know, they're probably excited about this whole thing, the bastards. That's how it is in the science world. Any _new discovery_ is big stuff. Who cares whose lives it's screwing?"

Sam's face was a mixture of sympathy and worry. Sympathy for the poor father in front of him, and worry for his possibly-infected brother next to him. God, he didn't want to go through that...again, he reminded himself. The image of Dean in a hospital bed was still all too fresh in his mind after the whole electrocution incident they'd dealt with weeks earlier. He couldn't go through that again. Seeing his brother like that...It was just too hard. Too emotionally taxing. And they had never been the best at handling emotionally-taxing situations.

"So, they haven't been much of a help, huh?" Sam asked, his voice laced with regret.

Jeffrey's gaze was directed downwards as he gave a slight shake of his head.

"Well," Sam said, slowly rising to his feet. He felt a little bad cutting their visit short, especially when the man was obviously so distressed, but it couldn't be helped at the moment. They had some investigating to do. "We better get running. We still have to get a room, and you said they're keeping pretty close tabs on the town at night?"

"Yeah," Jeffrey replied, also standing. "After seven they start clearing the streets. Closing the shops. They make house visits, too. Always on the look-out for their next infected victim."

"What about the bar?" Dean asked.

"You know, I think they're actually allowing the bar to stay open until ten or eleven. Out of pity, more than likely. Though I doubt the bastards actually have any." He paused for a moment. "Granted, I'll be singing a different tune if they actually manage to cure my daughter."

Sam gave a slight smile, actually hoping the man would end up eating all his critical words about the government workers. He really hoped his little girl would be okay. As well as all the other infected townspeople...As well as his brother. He glanced at Dean, studying him closely, looking for any signs of an on-setting illness. Dean caught him looking however, and quickly stepped past him towards the door, cutting off Sam's scrutinizing gaze.

Jeffrey grasped Sam's hand again and offered another sincere thanks. Sam reassured him they'd be in-touch soon, before following his brother out the front door.

Once back in the Impala, Dean roared up the engine and fastened his seatbelt. He felt eyes on him once again however, and abruptly turned to face his brother.

"Knock if off, will you?"

"Knock what off?" Sam asked, caught a bit off-guard by Dean's annoyance.

"That look you keep giving me."

"What look?"

"That one," Dean said, pointing. "Look, I'm not about to drop dead or anything, okay? And I hate being stared at, it creeps me out."

"I'm your brother," Sam said, as if that gave him every right to stare at his brother as much as wanted.

"Yeah, especially by my brother. It's creepy, quit it."

"Look, Dean," Sam said, "I know all too well how good you are at hiding things," Dean's eyebrows shot up as if to say, _Oh, really?_ "Like being sick," Sam went on, "and thinking I won't notice. You were always like that when we were kids, and you're still like that now. I know you won't speak up about it, so I've learned I just have to keep an eye on you."

"Oh, is that so?" Dean asked, nodding sarcastically.

Sam gave an affirmative shrug.

"Well, I'm not five, Sam," Dean retorted. "And as much as you may want to be, I hate to break it you, you're not my freaking nursemaid."

Sam couldn't help the slight exasperated smile that formed on his lips. Dean couldn't stand any form of coddling. At all. It drove him crazy.

"No," Sam answered. "But I am your brother." That should explain it all. Brother's looked out for each other. Took care ofone another. It wasn't "coddling." It's just what they did. And Sam was so sick of Dean's double standards. If it was him that had gotten pricked by the needle, Sam knew Dean would be going crazy. There wasn't any written rule that said older brothers always had to act as the "older" ones, and younger brothers always had to be the "younger" ones.

Dean shook his head in annoyance and peeled out.

Getting a motel room proved to be easier than they expected. All they had to do was feed the owner some b.s. story about how they were involved with the government investigationsof the town, and there they had it. His suspicions were diverted and he didn't ask them any further questions.

The room was small. Two twins, shaggy carpet, dim lighting. Not too homey, to sum it up. Dean flopped down on the edge of the nearest bed, once again drawing Sam's gaze immediately to him. Dean only ignored him this time. He felt okay. Tired, frustrated, and a little edgy, but for the most part okay.

Sam set his bag down on the opposite bed. "So, feeling up to paying the bar another visit?" he asked casually. "Maybe find out more about this 'Bill McPhee' character? Or maybe ask around about the other victims?"

Dean rubbed his brow. "Yeah, okay."

"You all right?"

"Yeah," Dean said, giving a slight nod. "I'm just sick of this gig already," he explained.

"Well, you can't be, man," Sam replied. "We haven't even started."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said a little snappishly, once again reasserting that he was the oldest and didn't need to be treated as anything but such.

Sam's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. He mentally checked "fatigue" on his list of things to be watching out for in his brother. He hoped to God "chills," "fever," and "difficulty breathing" would remain unchecked. But he would be watching. And whatever symptoms might make themselves manifest in his brother, they wouldn't be a problem. They would be dealt with and taken care of just like the usual roadblocks they faced in their everyday lives as hunters. Were Dean to get sick, he would get better. That was just the plain and simple truth of the matter. And Sam clung to that desperately as he pulled his jacket on and followed his brother back out the door.

**To be continued.**

* * *

**Author's note:** I'm really, really sorry about the ridiculously long gap between the last update. But the simple truth of the matter is I just haven't felt like writing for a while. My obsession for the show hasn't waned in the least, however. In fact, I'd say it's probably gotten a bit more unhealthy! The online Supernatural communities are pretty addictive and I've been spending most of my computer time posting on message boards and reading fanfics, rather than writing my own. But I do still love writing, and I won't ever start a story without (eventually) finishing it. Anyways, thanks for the reviews, and please don't hesitate to drop another one:) 


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